Roy Mustang's Bizarre Adventure
by BlizzardNight
Summary: His rather close friend, Major Maes Hughes, who happened to work with one of the Armstrong heirs, Major Alex Louis Armstrong, had invited him to the event. He had also been allowed to bring along guests. Plural, which had meant to Roy Mustang that he had taken this opportunity to see his friend from long ago who he could barely see and only kept up through phone communications.
1. Chapter 1

He wasn't sure as to why he even allowed himself to be dragged along by Maes. It was half past seven and guests were still arriving to this humble abode, a giant mansion within central, reflecting upon the status and wealth of the family that resided within it, the Armstrong family. They had been hosting a charity event, for what purpose, he knew not, but from what he heard from Maes, it was not uncommon for the Armstrong's to host this type of event.

The reason as to he, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang from East City found himself in front of the Armstrong abode with his right hand 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye? It was not as complicated of a story as many would think, for starters.

His rather close friend, Major Maes Hughes, who happened to work with one of the Armstrong heirs, Major Alex Louis Armstrong, had invited him, to the event. He had also been allowed to bring along guests. Plural, which had meant to Roy Mustang that he had taken this opportunity to see his friend from long ago who he could barely see and only kept up through phone commuications, either for Hughes to gush about his wife or exchange insider information, for various reasons, one he could pressure was to gush on about his wife in person, others he could merely speculate, such as gaining connections in higher places.

And if he would be going down to central, it would also mean his assistant and bodyguard, 2nd Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye would be attending, to make sure nothing would happen to him, or make a fool of himself in such a way it would ruin his reputation and chance at becoming Führer. With a rather important event like this, high ranking officials and stars would be attending, a good impression would be important.

On Major Armstrong himself, he knew not much. He had fought in the Ishvalan civil war, but had been discharged and reassigned for questioning authority and refusing orders to kill. He could not blame the man, but he had dreams he wanted to aspire too. He would dirty his hands, but he would make sure they would answer for their crimes one day, for a genocide should not be permitted, no matter the reasons.

Upon the top steps of the mansion, he noted a man looking to a watch rather impatiently, holding his arm was a rather lovely young lady with chestnut blonde hair and green eyes. He recognized both instantly, Maes and Gracia Hughes. He walked up the gravel pathway when Maes finally noticed him.

"Yo, Roy! It's been way to long since I last say you!" He waved cheerfully, Roy returned the gesture with an amused smirk, Maes was in a good mood as ever. When they climbed the steps and greeted face to face he greeted 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye with a bit more formality. "You both remember my wife Gracia, right?"

"Of course Hughes, you won't stop talking about how amazingly wonderful, beautiful and fantastic she is." He retorted as if it was same old chatter, which it rathe was. Mustang turned to Gracia and took her hand, kissing it politely as the gentleman he had been raised to be.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Gracia."

"It's good to see both of you are well." Her voice was warm and welcoming, easily characterized as 'the familiarity of home.' He could understand why Hughes loved her so deeply, he always loved those types of woman, someone who would want a family as much as he did.

"Anyway sorry for calling you on such short notice, I thought that you would have appreciated something like this, you know?" _With high ranking officials attending, creating connections allowing him to get further up in the chain of command_. The silent words that went unsaid as Hughes rubbed his head with a sheepish grin on his face. Maes was always looking out for him, a good man indeed.

"No problems, really," absolutely none. He looked to his lieutenant, a rather welcomed break.

"I'm sorry if this is rude," as Gracia began to talk to Hawkeye, asking her for her name, as last time they had met, she had not been able to ask for it, and continuing on with other frivolous small talk, which Hawkeye replied to with patience and a small tinge of delight, Maes took Roy to the side.

"I heard from Armstrong that among the guests, a few generals of various standings, from Brigadier to full fledged General would be there, his sister, Major General Armstrong had even been 'called back'," air quotes surrounded the words 'called back', " maybe even the Führer himself." His tonality held a form of warning.

"The point, Hughes."

"The point is, if you fuck up, it could ruin your chance of going big, so watch what you say and be weary of what you say, a potential ally could have turned into an enemy with a slip of the tongue." He knew this. Fairly well, one of the reasons Hawkeye had tagged along, but the Führer himself could be among the crowd? He would have to hold himself proper and kiss as much ass.

"Also," Hughes disrupted Mustang from his musing, "there are a whole bunch of single ladies here tonight. A could time to find yourself a wife." He jabbed to his friend.

Mustang abruptly turned his eye to Hawkeye.

"Its been a pleasure seeing you Hughes, but me and my Lieutenant will be leaving you now." He marched into the direction of of the Armstrong mansion entrance. Hawkeye quickly following his pace. With that Hughes gave an indignant 'hey!' Before calling out to Mustang one last time.

"Just remember what I said!"

"Of course Hughes, find myself a wife, you tell me this every time we meet." It was the last thing he had said to Hughes before entering the larger entrance way of the Armstrongs. The inside was as luxurious as the inside of the house. If he wasn't careful, he could easily get lost within the labyrinth of fancy walls. Mustang turned his head to his Lieutenant.

"Shall we get going?" He asked charmingly.

"Yes, Sir." Hawkeye replied curtly. As the followed the flow, of people to what he would presume was where the event was taking place, he leaned over to Hawkeye to allow himself to whisper something to her.

"Was the gun really necessary?" He asked incredulously. He hadn't noticed it at first, but as they had made their way to the Armstrong estate, he had noted the small gun she kept discreetly holstered to her thigh. Hawkeye nodded her head.

"Absolutely, sir." Mustang sighed. I guess one could never be too sure when danger was to strike. Hawkeye was always prepared for the worst, even if the worst was marginally unlikely. He remembered why he liked Hawkeye. With a content smirk, that easily doubled as a charming smile to wow the ladies, he made his way to the main event of the night.

And to say the event was high end would be an understatement. Political influences from the corners of Amestris were gathered within the confinements of this very room. There were food tables and music by a live Orchestra, it had just finished a classical piece and moved on to a much more contemporary jazz ballade. People were chatting merely with one another, couples danced on the floor while military officials who had not seen each other in a long time gathered around tables to catch up. One so who had known Mustang called him over, dragging him away from Hawkeye for the rest of the evening.

This was how 2nd Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye found herself separated from her superior for the rest of the evening, not finding him until he was in a bar he had briefly told her about, the very next day.

And this was how Mustang's bizarre adventure began.

* * *

 **A/N:** so it's sort of been a while since i've done an fma fanfic, fma was my first ever fandom actually! A few things to note, this is being cross posted on AO3, currently there are 3 chapters (the fourth to be published soon). 2nd, this fic relies on a few hcs, what they are, are in fact mentioned in bits and pieces throughout the story, 3rd, there is no regular update schedule. I update as I see fit. I tend to write the chapters one day before posting them, each about 1k. This is more of an outlet fic more than anything, and in the document im writing in, funny image cutters that i make up my own stories to.

With that, thanks for enjoying this fic!


	2. Chapter 2

Riza Hawkeye, 2nd Lieutenant and subordinate of one Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, found herself standing alone in the middle of a crowded ballroom, alone because no of the faces stroke familiarity with her. It was rather hard to think in a room surrounded by people one could feel the sensation of isolation, but she found herself in that predicament, but she was no damsel in distress. No that would be better qualified to her superior - something she was certain she had told him once before, on a rather rainy day, she thought.

No, Riza Hawkeye would not stand there like a fish out of water, she would find the Colonel and maybe even enjoy these small festivities. One could never really know when it came to things like these.

Major General Armstrong on the other hand, was not as optimistic. She had been called back for one of the many frivolities her parents enjoyed conducting, and while for an admirable cause they were doing so, they could have left her back at Fort Briggs. Even if while she was away -her men could take care of themselves- she did not want to be anywhere near the coward, her brother. Or having to put up with the horrible dress codes her parents used to put her up with. Really, pants were far more practical than a dress, as chaffing of the thighs became next to none. Practically amazing.

And oh no, she would not be outwitted by her parents once more, she thought, while she had complete respect for them, they could have god awful fashion taste. Rather, their tastes did not match, so to speak. Which was how, on a formal night like this, Olivier Mira Armstrong found herself standing at top of the staircase staring down at the many people gathered, clothed in a white strapless ensemble that resembled a dress, but was in reality a one piece, with pants. And her sword, passed down the Armstrong line for generations, now to her, was secured to the belt of her ensemble, or rather the scabbard was. No matter as her sword was still by her side.

As to why she sat herself atop of the many steps? Similarly to her sister Catherine, she tended to shy away from large social events, not for the same reason as her sister Catherine, but rather because these types of events lacked lustre. As she had thought before, frivolities, albeit for a good cause. Mindless chatter with people she barely knew was no real interest to her, neither would she ever see these people again, there was no real point in attempting to communicate with the other attendees if she would be leaving, to never see or hear from them again.

"Maybe you could find yourself someone nice," her sister's words echoing in her head, "a lot of single young ladies had been invited, maybe one among them is the one for you?" Catherine, always the hopeless romantic. And she had been right, she thought, there was an astounding amount of radiantly beautiful young women among the crowds, and yet.

None struck her as meaningful. While all equally beautiful, in their own amazing ways, wether it may be intellect, beauty, or anything else, none interested her. She was rather unsure what she was looking for; a rather stereotypical housewife or the strong woman?

Or rather, none interested her until she had laid her eyes on a stunning lady traversing the sea of frivolity. This rather elegant young woman struck her not just for her beauty, but for the fact there had been a firearm strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath her dress.

"What's a beautiful young lady like you doing up here all alone?" She turned her head to the one who had spoken to her. It was a young man in his twenties, around 25, if her judgements were correct. He had black hair, and dark blue eyes, though she had sworn they had been pale blue only moments ago. He was eloquently dressed, like all other men in the room, but different in comparison, he stood out in a crowd. But the one thing that unnerved her. The one thing, that look on his face. One that was meant to make her swoon and charmed, she rather despised that type of man.

"Leaving, actually." With that, she left the side of the young man she would later come to learn the name of. Roy Mustang. He said some things she could not recount, but ignited a kindling of hatred. With an encounter as such, it was rather hard not to assume the seed of hatred within her heart began to grow as a result from the number of times he attempted to grab her attention for the rest of the evening, before disappearing to who knows where. Not like she cared. One more nuisance to think about.

Because of the distraction, she had lost sight of the young woman with the gun. She wondered for what purpose was the gun? Was she a bodyguard of sorts, or an assassin here to murder someone? No matter, once she was to find her again, she would question her. There was something within her that fluttred, but she knew not how to qualify the emotion. Maybe thrill? She would leave it as such.

She too began her journey throughout the crowd to catch a glimpse of her, but rather difficult as there were a surprising amount of blonde young woman amount the crowd, but all of them either had blue eyes or other different colours than her own. The woman's had been a warm brown, warm brown within dead eyes. It went on like this for a while, the night filled with music, dancing and festivities. At one point the service stopped to greet an important guest, the Führer had dropped by for a curt appearance, a small chat, than briskly leaving. The night continued on for a long time, one of her attempts had brought her to a couple, who, the husband, could not stop gushing about his 'oh so amazing' wife. She quickly avoided that one as well. She was on a mission, and she would not stop until she had found the mysterious young woman with the gun strapped to her thigh and the mesmerizingly dead warm brown eyes, as much as that sounded contradictive.

She stopped dead when she noted the behemoth brother she had been desperately avoiding all night, though he seemed rather preoccupied, talking to someone, quite deep in conversation. Good, one less thing to worry about, as long as he was distracted she worried not for one of his far more ridiculous outbursts. She gritted her teeth and turned the otherway. She had other things to think about than the shame that fool had brought their family.

It was beginning to near midnight, the ballroom had begun to slowly empty out, those who stayed were some gearing to make business propositions or to have a word with the Armstrong heads. Many people chattered as they began to depart.

"Man I wonder where Roy's gone? I hadn't seen him for the entire night." Asked the man who had easier boosted about his wife.

"Maybe he's already left?" Imputed his wife.

The husband shook his head, "don't think so, Lieutenant Hawkeye's still here." He turned his head. The name was familiar to her. Hawkeye, a sharpshooter during the Ishval war of extermination, only a cadet at the time on her final year of training. Promoted to lieutenant after it, so it seems. She followed the husband's gaze, to her luck, the mysterious figure happened to be the very same. She felt a bitter taste in her mouth.

"I'm just going to see if I can find Major Armstrong, I'll be back real quick." So the husband had been an acquaintance of her brother? No matter. She decided to take her chance. She could have a word with Hawkeye right now, she was alone. She approached the young marksman, and as she suspected, she turned her head to her, before quickly regaining a far more formal composure, a more civilian feeling to it. Armstrong looked around rather impatiently before asking her question.

"So, may I ask of your name?" Hawkeye blinked, a small smile tugged her lips.

"Riza Hawkeye, and yours?"

"Olivier," she did not give away her last name for the simple reason of not wanting to lose such amicable ambiance she had with Hawkeye, had she said 'Armstrong', she was positive she would shift to a far more work persona. Riza took note of no last name given, but did not further inquire on the topic.

Olivier placed her hands on her hips and turned to the crowd.

"Come here alone, by chance? Or with your partner?" She turned her eyes slightly to see if there was some sort of reaction from the word partner being applied, there was no such reaction to her face.

"My superior officer, actually, but we got separated in the crowd." She sighed, Hawkeye turned her head slightly to keep a form of eye contact with Olivier, "did a man with black hair and dark blue eyes attempt to flirt with you tonight?" That was a rather odd question.

"Multiple times." She spoke bitterly. Hawkeye nodded her head.

"That would be him." Riza deadpanned, "could you tell me where you saw him last?" A superior officer named Roy? She had a feeling she knew who it was, but dare say it, she would have to ask her brother for more information.

"Over there," she pointed to the windows to the far left of the room, where an exit had happened to have been, she had seen him exiting right after someone, but she was unsure as to who it was.

"Thank you. Have a good evening ma'm." With that, Hawkeye had left in the direction she had indicated, after her superior officer 'Roy'. It would be the last she would see of Riza Hawkeye for a fairly long time, in person, anyway. She had left an impression. She had not been sure why, herself, but there was something about her she wanted to find out more about.

For once, Olivier had been left speechless by the woman known as 'Riza Hawkeye'.


	3. Chapter 3

When Roy Mustang awoke the next morning, he had done his normal daily routine of horrible self care. The hotel room was rather small, it was a military hotel, and felt even smaller with the mess that littered his floor -how it had gotten so messy in the short amount of time he had been in the room was a mystery all on its own. He told himself to clean up, but never found the energy or motivation to do it. He would have to, this time. It wasn't his apartment, which, according to his 2nd lieutenant, was a 'horrible mess of poor ability to care for one's self.'

When Roy Mustang awoke the next morning, he had placed coffee on the kettle, and went to go brush his teeth, the events of the night the before an alcoholic blur. When had he begun to drink? Not at the party, that he remembered rather clearly. Not when had been talking with…? Who had he been talking to again? He felt like there was something important he had been forgetting.

When Roy Mustang awoke the next morning, he realized he found himself in a rather peculiar predicament when the memories of the night before hit him in the face. A note lazily scrawled onto the counter 'don't forget East with Hawkeye'.

When Roy Mustang awoke the next morning, he realized he had placed himself in a deep amount of shit and clashing schedules.

After morning practice, Olivier found herself, possibly against better judgement, heading to her brother. She had been telling herself 'it was for reconnaissance purposes' nothing more to it, and nothing less.

When the heads had told her a guest had paid a visit, she paid it not much means. Guests often came over, talking with her mother and father on deals or advice. The Armstrong's were still incredibly influential to the country of Amestris.

Roy Mustang did not think he would have found himself in front of the Armstrong estate after last night, really. Hawkeye had been hard enough to shake off, but he was sure she was still watching him with her hawk's eyes. Her condition was immediate departure after he had finished his business here. Armstrong deserved a reason as to why their date would be postponed.

Yes. Date. What Roy Mustang had remembered was that after chatting with the Major, they departed from the main event and continued talking, until he himself had decided upon taking him out. He didn't fathom why Armstrong agreed, but he couldn't help feel a sense of pride. Possibly the fact that he was still able to woo who he wanted to woo? Or…? He did not want to think about the latter. If she did not care for him, he shouldn't think of her.

He cleared his throat, readjusted his military attire -Hawkeye had been very adamant on leaving as soon as this was done- and gave a single knock on the door. Who he had been greeted by was neither the Major, but rather a tall slender woman, as tall as the Major himself. She must have been the Armstrong matriarch. She looked down to him, and he retained his composure, face as stony and unmoving as when talking to a superior, but he had to say being stared down upon was a sensation he forgot he hated of so much.

"May I ask what your business with the Armstrong's may be?" Her voice was a noble, as to be expected of old money. They had to maintain an impression of riches and importance, which they very much still retained. Easily defined as 'nobility.'

"I'm here to see Major Alex Armstrong, Mrs." His tone was as polite and as kind talking with someone who did have to possibility of tarnishing his career. His voice was charming, trying to leave a good impression upon her.

A bright smile graced the matriarch's face. A laugh fairly reminiscent of those horrid tacky villains in those black and white movies he had watched as a young child escaped her lips.

"Ah yes, I remember your face! The young man who courted our Alex, come in, come in." What. The matriarch grabbed him by the shoulder and with her height being an important factor, had dragged him into the Armstrong mansion within his confusion.

Even if Roy Mustang could not see it, he could physically sense the sigh that escaped his Lieutenant's lips.

He had been pushed along by the mother, rather easily than he would have liked to admit, but he also moved along with her, still wanting to be able to stay within good grace.

"We were rather shocked to know that the famous flame alchemist had an interest in our Alex, when we had seem him exit with you yesterday, we made nothing of it. Two alchemists exchanging knowledge, but to say the least we were surprised to find out this morning. " Mustang had cursed himself for not making sure if he had been seen exiting with Armstrong, but relaxed when the fact that it had come off more as two alchemists exchanging information. He had to look out to see if this would bite him in the ass later on, his carelessness. One of the reasons he would go from person to person as a drifter had a few motivations behind it. One was to collect information -an old habit from when had been 14. A habit he shouldn't have begun, but came not to regret- to not have hostage leverage against him - A loved one could be used against him to toy with his emotions. While his family, more specifically Madame Christmas, knows of the risks and lives her life accordingly, death had been accepted if a hostage situation could occur. His sister gave no shits about him, one of the rather good things about their current relationship, that was possibly destroyed beyond repair- the third had been because he loved to charm woman. While he did seem like a playboy, he was, and foremost, raised as a gentleman. He would try his best to cheer up the woman he would think needed to be cheered up, complimented and told that they still mattered and belonged. Men didn't take to the need of being cheered up as much since men were supposed to be seen as 'strong' and 'not to cry', 'to show no empathy or care'. It could be rather toxic when one thought about it long enough.

"Surprised?" He decided to keep the conversation going.

"Why yes, Alex always seemed to have difficulty finding someone who could appreciate his sensitivity, and enjoy his presence. Where are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself! Genevieve Marie Armstrong." She stuck out her hand to shake with Roy's own.

"Roy Mustang." He returned the gesture and she nodded contently.

"A strong sounding name." She nodded her head, seaming to enjoy the way his name sounded. He seemed to smirk at the idea that this strong matriarch would find his own name to sound well upon her tongue, a true compliment, really. "Here we are. Make yourself welcome." Genevieve opened the door to the room she had been leading Mustang to. The doors were crafted with finesse, he would expect nothing less from the Armstrong's, mahogany. With that, he gave her a respectful nod, appreciating the time she had taken out to show him around, an entered the room where he thought Armstrong would be.

When Olivier had found her brother, she for one had not expected to find the little punk from yesterday who had been trying to chat her up. Infamous Roy Mustang. She took a form of enjoyment out of seeing him tense when he laid eyes upon her.

This brought questions the centre stage, so to speak.

On this rather tense morning, the relationship of hatred between one Major-General Armstrong and one Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang came to fruition, but there was also another. A mutual invitation for blackmail. To keep each other in line, so to speak.

For Olivier Mira Armstrong, her attempts to woo one Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

For Roy Mustang, his current relationship with one Alex Louis Armstrong.

* * *

 **A/n:** I will continue writing the story nobody asked for and I've always needed


	4. Chapter 4

Alex sat at his rather small desk. Today had been a slow day, a rather good thing for the department he made his living in. He looked over to the desk of his superior officer who he was forever indebted to, Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes, who, as per norm, chatted away to his very dear friend, Colonel Mustang, over the phone about his precious daughter and his beautiful wife. While everyone in the department felt bad for the Colonel on the other end on the line, they prayed their lucky stars it wasn't them.

"Hey, Roy, helloooo?" The Lt. Colonel looked into the phone's mouth piece, "he hung up on me." The dead beeps of the phone resounded through out the room.

"Maybe it's because you won't stop talking about personal affairs over a military line, sir." Reprimanded one of the officers. The Lt. Colonel dutifully ignored the comment. Alex looked up to the clock. His work day had ended already. The Lieutenant Colonel hung up the phone and sighed.

"I'll be leaving for the day, sir." The Lt. Colonel looked up from where he had been sulking, pictures of his wife and his daughter scattered beneath his forearms . He nodded and gave him a two finger salute.

"Have a good one Major." Alex pulled on his coat and exited the office space. 2nd Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh stared to one another. It had been like this for almost 2 years now. Around the end of the week, Major Armstrong would leave around normal working hours, instead of after hours, as he tended to do.

"There he goes again." Maria Ross whispered to one Danny Brosh.

"Do you think he has a girlfriend?" Danny Brosh whispered to one Maria Ross.

Before she even had enough time to return a response, Lieutenant Colonel swooped over, seeing an opportunity to flaunt around his beautiful wife and child once again. He smirked to himself, stopping rumours and ideas of pursuit before they could flourish, because when the investigation department became interested in something, they would go to the means to figure it out.

Roy so totally owed him.

Alex made his way back to the family estate, greeted by his lovely sisters and the sound of Catherine inadvertently smashing a piano. He rather enjoyed the sound of home, but there had been one thing he rather missed.

He picked up the phone and spun in the numbers. Sitting himself down in front of the large window, giving him access to the view of the garden, he slowly petted the dog that had decided to curl beneath his feet. The call passed directly to the receiver.

"Hughes if you're calling me from an outside line to blab on about your 'oh so amazing wife and daughter' I will let you be the test dummy to finding out if you can actually burn someone via phone." Alex found himself laughing slightly.

"It's good to hear your in a good mood," his voice was as ever loud and as ever cheerful.

Roy perked up suddenly and switched the phone over to his left ear. He swivelled in his chair, facing the opposite direction of one leaving Riza Hawkeye. He waved her off, but she waited slightly within the ajar doorframe.

"Alex, good to hear from you." With that she sighed with a small content smile. She let go of the door and departed for her apartment, tomorrow they would be leaving. "How was work?" There was no longer anyone within the room, but the phone and the Colonel.

"A rather slow day." In other words, no one had died today, "And how about you, not slacking off on paperwork are you?" He had forgotten that like his Lieutenant, Alex took much care into making sure he was getting his work done, or not slowly killing himself with alcohol. There was also that. He pulled the collar of his shirt slightly.

"So how's the weather in Central lately?" He diverted the topic with that rather cheerful tone he had become accustomed to using around Alex when attempting to divert topics.

"Roy…" Mustang looked over to his pile. He could easily blame Hughes as the main suspect in his inability to finish his paperwork, but he still could not avoid the cold hard facts that his tendency of delegating his work and high amounts of procrastination were to blame. There was just something about the paperwork… something that made him not want to do it. He picked up the more immediate ones in the pile and gave them a quick read over before signing.

"I'm getting it done, hear that? The sound of a fountain pen scratching the table?" He wrote slightly louder than normal in a means to exaggerate his gestures. Only two people in this world could get him to do his paperwork. Those two were also rather proud of that fact. Where all others failed, they shined -one of them rather literally sparkling.

There was a small snort from the other end line, and Roy smirked.

"I'm glad to see you're rather sarcastic as ever." Roy dropped his pen and grinned to himself, leaning into the desk, he better grasped the phone.

"And you still find me as charming as ever." He said smugly into the receiver.

"Of course." There was another muffled laughter. Roy leaned back into his chair again, a sigh escaped his lips. The sun had begun its descent in the sky, while still rather bright out, the city lights bellow turned on, giving the streets a rather magical glow.

"How's the weather in Central by the way?" He asked suddenly, as he leaned his hand on his head. He would be leaving tomorrow.

"It will be clear for the rest of the week, why do you ask, Roy?" As expressive as ever, Alex was, curiosity as clear as to his motivations behind asking the question.

"Oh no reason." Brushed off Roy as if it was a rather common question to ask the weather of a place you were, supposedly, not supposed to be in for the area, at all, "just…curious." He hummed to himself, his voice sounding rather far away, as if in thought.

He heard Alex grunt a response. He wasn't going to push any further. He smiled. It was one of the things he rather liked about Alex, he trusted him enough to know he would tell him when the time came. A trust he really did not, and had no intention to break. There were some things he was not ready, or currently willing, to tell Alex, and Alex accepted it. He would wait. He felt his heart grow warm.

He quickly mentally slapped himself. 'Roy Mustang you are currently at work and should not be acting like a love sick high schooler. You can act like that once you get home.'

"I'll be seeing you than," with that he began to end the call, until, "Also tell Sparky I said Hi and that I love her." He could hear the small bark that radiated joy and loyalty from the other end of the line. God he loved dogs. Just so amazing.

Right. He nodded to himself and coughed into his gloved hand. He walked over to the coat rack and picked up his black trench coat. Today was the end of a day and tomorrow would be a new one. He looked to some of the paperwork on his desk. He shrugged it off. He could just read a book on the train. No need to worry about something that would still be there when he got back. With that, he flicked off the lights, locked the door, and headed straight home to the bottle of whiskey -which he promised, to both Hawkeye and Alex, would only be one glass- that was calling his name.


	5. Chapter 5

Riza Hawkeye had made her way to her superior's apartment as per norm, and as she had expected, he had spectacularly crashed out in the 'living room' area of the flat, on a small couch, a blanket pathetically sprawled across the floor. How she had made her way in to the apartment in the first place? She knew exactly where he hid the spare key, rather predictably. It was in a rather obvious location one would not think of to look, if she had not know Roy Mustang for such a long long time. With a routine approach she knocked on the door, calling out to he superior, as usual no response. Her shoulders slouched in exasperation. It would be one of those days. With that she reached for the spare key hidden within a transmuted hidden panel on the door, and swiftly opened the lock.

It was like that that she had found her superior as fancily sprawled across the couch like a Prima Dona. She looked around the apartment, the same turned over pictures of family he was to guilty to see, pictures of friends, pictures of past and current loves. She sniffed the air, she could smell a tinge of flowers, in the corner she noted a destroyed bouquet. That would make for an interesting story. She approached her superior and leaned over, calling out for him to wake up.

"Colonel, sir, if we do not leave soon we will miss the train departing for central," she repeated in several different variations. Mustang only moved in his sleep.

"…sis I'm… rry" he slurred in his sleep. Hawkeye hesitated for a second. She knew of his reoccurring dreams, from the times he had fallen asleep at work, murmuring away. It was always the same thing he would say. 'Sis I'm sorry.' Sometimes they tended to be happier, she would assume of the times before his relationship with his sister was far less strained. She knew only bits and pieces from him when he had been studying under her father. How respectable of a woman she was, and how he wanted to follow in her footsteps. That had not happened. After joining the military, their relationship began to deteriorate, from what she had heard, what he had confided in her when he was at his weakest. How she had forsaken him after the Ishval war, how he would be dead the next time she would see him. Having been hurt by someone you had so much respect towards, especially family, she could barely imagine, but she knew what it was like to have a strained family relationship. Her father and her were no better.

She sighed. It was one of those days.

She looked around the apartment, she noted he had not made any luggage to bring along with him. To be expected, he had clothing back in Central. On the other hand, he did have a small bag laid out, toothbrush, toothpaste and a few books that had been unlucky to have no succeeded in finding their way into the bag. Hawkeye nodded her head, she knew exactly what would be needed before starting this endeavour. She went to go find some clothes, this would allow them to exit the apartment faster, the Colonel to be end up in a rushed mess. After she had done that, she went to go fetch an empty cup, filling it with ice cold water, when the cup was filed to a respectable height, she returned to her superior and pored the water over his head. She had heard from Catalina that dunking a drunk person's head in cold water would allow them to get sober. She knew that the rumour was rather false, but cold water did wonders for waking up superior officers.

"What the hell, Hawkeye?" Roy Mustang, drenched from head to shoulders, graced the wonderful world with his foul language.

"We have a train to catch, sir." Mustang looked around, his eyes widening in alarm, he stood up suddenly and rushed off to get dressed. Or rather, a two minute wash down and come cologne to mask the smell of alcohol that he emitted, he also made sure to brush his teeth. Ready in record time, he quickly placed the forlorn items into the bag and grabbed his pocket watch. He gave one last glance to his apartment and nodded his head. They exited the apartment and locked the door.

"How are we on time?" He asked as they made their way out of the apartment complex. Hawkeye glanced to the watch she brought with her while traveling, it was 8h15.

"The train departs in 15 minutes, sir." A low slew of curses escaped the Colonel's mouth in a husky tone.

"And Edward Elric?"

"I told him to be at the train station by 8h, sir." Another grimace from the Colonel. He breathed in, breathed out, and up came the façade he so loved to place upon himself. The charmer, the tail chaser, the one who people would least suspect to be hiding so much. With that charm in his voice he replied:

"Than let's not leave him lying in the dust, Lieutenant."

It was the voice of arrogance, of over the top confidence. The voice of a man who believe so much in himself, others awaited to see him crash and burn. Roy Mustang enjoyed taking on that role, and Riza Hawkeye dutifully followed him, keeping him in line.

* * *

Edward Elric tapped his foot again. He was far past the emotional state of 'impatience'. He had been told to be at the train by 8 o' clock by the Lieutenant, Hawkeye had been her name, if not mistaken. So here he was, though slightly late in time, at the train station, only to be greeted by no one. Fan-fucking-tastic. He looked to the station clock and tapped his leg impatiently. 8h20 and they were still nowhere in sight. On top of that, the train was about to leave!

"What the fuck is taking them so long…?" Gritted Ed angrily. Just leave a 12 year old alone in a train station. What a fantastically smart idea. He could take care of himself, obviously, but really? What had they been thinking? Were they going to just up and abandon him? Or had Mustang been pulling him along for shits and giggles?

Five minutes had passed when Edward noted the distinct military uniforms, and Mustang's smug face. While he had to admit, it stood out in a crowd, it didn't deter away from the fact he looked like a smug piece of shit.

"It's good to see you made it on time, Edward." Edward turned his head away from Mustang to nod to Hawkeye. She too had a distinct face, it was her eyes that made her stand out in the crowd, the brown contrasting with the blonde. He had to say he was really no different, just standing out here in the middle of the train station, he had gotten strange looks, while some might have been for the bright red coat he adorned, it was normally because of his eyes. They were golden, like his brother's were, like that bastard's were. When he had been younger, he thought golden eyes were common. They weren't. With that, he decided to go all out to stand out more, he pridefully adorned a red coat, and enjoyed standing out in a crowd of familiar faces. He looked down to his metal hand, he had wished Alphonse could have been able to do the same.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," he turned over to the Colonel," Colonel Mustang," he probably said it with more harshness than necessary, he noted the a Colonel raising his eye, "glad to see you guys decided to not leave me in the dust." That had been rather straight forward.

"Important last minute paperwork to attend to," Mustang so blatantly lied, rather cooly. Edward wasn't buying it, but had no choice to okay along, the train would be leaving in a few minutes and they would have to be able to get some seats before its departure.

The train ride was filled with silence, Edward stared out the window, while Mustang found himself enveloped within a book, Hawkeye on the other hand, found herself studying the young boy, because that's what he was, as much as he was trying to disprove otherwise. He was a young boy, desperate to make amends to his sins.

"So what's the evaluation like anyway?" Edward spoke up suddenly, Riza's eyes crossed with those unique golden eyes she had only ever seen on one person. Roy looked up from his book to catch a brief glance with Ed, before beginning his lecture again.

"Just an alchemical ability test, to demonstrate your abilities." Mustang's voice was distracted, most obviously by the story he was reading. The book's cover and back were hidden by a book cover, he had most likely done it on purpose to pry away from seeing eyes. Edward grunted in acknowledgement.

"While on the topic of the exam," Mustang closed his book and stared Ed in the eyes. There was something incredibly familiar about his face, he suddenly remembered. He had noted it the first day he had met Mustang, but had been to dazed to recognize that thought, rather distracted by the offer he had proposed. Now with time to think, the gears in his head began to turn, attempting to chew out an answer, "your limbs." Well fuck. "you'll have to make a solid story explaining how you lost them," he hushed. Edward rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know." He waved him off aloofly. Roy raised an eyebrow, smirked and returned to his book. He stared at him again. A feeling of déjà vu creeping up his back. His brain really needed to chew out an answer one of these days.

The train ride continued on in silence, Edward trying to figure out who exactly Mustang reminded him of.


	6. Chapter 6

Unlike how he would normally be greeted by either his good friend Maes Hughes or his partner Alex Louis Armstrong, Roy Mustang found himself looking into the sea of bustling crowds. Not surprising, this was a surprise visit for an important occasion. A new state alchemist candidate. Edward Elric, the kid was smart for his age, he wouldn't say it to his face, but he was impressively smart. He wouldn't be rather surprised if the kid did get chosen as a state alchemist. Normally he wouldn't have dragged a kid into the military – for Edward Elric, despite his strong façade, was a kid – but he wasn't about to let him suffer, he had been at his weakest. He had been broken and looking for a reason to continue. Roy Mustang had supplied just that. All he had to do was throw a bone, and Edward replied. He also wouldn't say this, but he was rather relieved, had he not been there, what would have happened to those boys? Would Edward have ended it all there? He was satisfied knowing he had made a difference to allow someone to continue living.

He looked down to Edward, standing beside him, hands in his pockets.

"What?" The blond asked rather bluntly.

"Let's get going, they won't be waiting all day." He smirked and began his trek to Central command. He was positive that the news had begun to circulate through command by now, Hughes being one of the first few to begin the relay of gossip. He heard the boy grunt a response and the heavy clunk of his metal leg behind him, Hawkeye following behind Edward' making sure he wouldn't be lost on the way.

He rather enjoyed a peaceful ballad through central as Hawkeye supplied information on central to the curious alchemist, absorbing every fact and detail with amazement and awe. They decided to walk for a few reasons, for one sitting on the train for such a long amount of time rather cramped the legs, another because a car had not been ready and finally, why not? The day was nice, and the examination wasn't until later in the afternoon.

Their train had been delayed by an accident, they had been delayed for a few hours and a few hours turned into night time. Before all of that had occurred, Roy Mustang had the smart idea to call central, explaining the delays and asking for a rescheduling. It had been granted, the exam was postponed to tomorrow, at 1h32. He curtly thanked the officer, hung up the phone and relayed the information that had not been as well digested by the alchemist taking the examination.

So it was today, currently 10h12, that Roy Mustang found himself on the streets of Central, with a young child and his Lieutenant in toe.

* * *

When Lieutenant-Colonel heard the news of a new candidate for the state alchemist examination, Maes Hughes had a keen intuition that it was one of Mustang's finds. Lo and behold it had been confirmed not two moments sooner that Roy Mustang would be delayed with one State alchemist candidate. Originally, there was a sense of pride he felt for his friend, taking an initiative to rise in the ranks of the military which he was ready to be a stepping stone for.

When he had heard the age of the candidate, the very next day, a bitter taste found its way into his mouth. Nothing more than a child of age twelve. His name was Edward Elric. He knew there were no age limits for the examination, but twelve was pushing it. He was only a kid. He couldn't even imagine his young Elicia doing such a thing. There was a reason to this, Hughes knew it. Sometimes it's alright to wait for a person to confide in you, but other times you need the answer spelt out for you as clear as day. When Maes Hughes would see Roy Mustang, for he knew this was no conversation to be held over the phone, he would ask him why he would allow the opportunity for a child to become the dog of the military. There was something more to the story here, and couldn't figure it out with the pieces handed to him, not just yet.

* * *

Taking it slow, they arrived at central command ten past noon, by this time, Edward's stomach had decided to make its demands known. He looked down and began to glare at it to shut up, it would just have to wait a little longer until the examination was over so please shut up until than. He barely avoided a head on collision with the Colonel when he abruptly stopped. He looked down to Edward – Ed wanted to deck him every single time he did that, the act of being looked down upon really pissed him off – and than looked back to the Lieutenant, who nodded her head.

"There's a cantina not far from here, Lieutenant Hawkeye will escort you there and than to the examination room. Don't be late." With that the Colonel stalked off in the opposite direction, he seemed to be… smirking? What had made him out to be in such a chipper mood. Edward stared at him oddly. He placed his hands in his pockets, wasn't worth his time to get worked up over, his stomach demanded to be feed.

"So Lieutenant Hawkeye…How's the food at the cantina?" He followed in place of the older woman, if he had to be quite frank, he held far more respect for Lieutenant Hawkeye than the Colonel.

"Bland actually." Sometimes she forgot how hard it was to strike up conversations with people she was not familiar with, this case in peculiar since she was twice the age of the person who she was speaking with. "But that would be from experience at East Headquarters." She heard him give out a drawled out 'uh huh' as if he was lost in thought.

She gave off an air that screamed 'cross me and you're dead'. Also respect, lots of that. Kind of like his teacher, but far less violent. That wasn't a subject he wanted to dabble upon just yet, or just never. He stopped suddenly, realization striking him.

Hawkeye noted the lack of unevenly weighed footsteps, she turned around and saw the young boy with the face of someone who had just been struck with a great epiphany. She raised her eyebrow.

"Is everything alright Edward?" Ed looked up and shook off the shock. If it was true that would be some information that would be hard to swallow. Don't think upon it too much.

"I'm alright… just lost in thought is all." He replied curtly. Hawkeye wasn't going to push it. "Oh and call me Ed."

"Alright than, Ed." With that they continued on their way to the cantina. Talking with him could be far easier than she would have expected.

* * *

Of all things to occurs to him today, Roy Mustang least of all expected being dragged off by his best friend. Or rather, he would have expected something as such, but not for the exact same reasons they were locked up in a janitor's closet together.

Roy Mustang looked around amused.

"This brings back academy memories." It was said more sarcastically than not. Currently, Maes didn't seem to have a sense of humour. His face was as unmoving as stone.

"Roy, what exactly were you thinking?" Mustang raised an eyebrow. The janitor's closet was larger than most people would presume from its outside appearance, and was rather well light considering the horrid condition the lightbulb found itself to be in.

"I could ask you the same thing currently, Hughes." Alright, Maes really wasn't in a humorous mood. He had a feeling it would turn to something like this. He was hoping he wouldn't have to go through this today. He sighed.

"Roy, he's just a kid."

"He and he alone made the decision to join, Maes. I told him all he needed to know." He could see Maes was obviously conflicted and dissatisfied with the answer. The man was in intelligence for a reason.

"You told him what he needed to know?" God he knew Maes to well to continue on with this horseplay of his. He had to get to Elric's evaluation or he would be here for the next hour or so.

"Maes, I gave him a chance to continue living. The burdens he carries are his and his alone to tell." There was a sudden shift in atmosphere, one that he knew meant Maes' need for interrogation had been met. He would have enjoyed saying less, for it was Elric's and Elric's story alone to tell, but Roy knew with this bare minimum it was enough to keep him satisfied. He would no longer push or shove on the matter until it was brought to his eyes once again 2 years from now, when Maes Hughes would finally learn of the burdens the two boys carry, and understand Mustang's reasoning for the proposal.

With that out of the way. Maes reached into his pocket and began to catch up with his friend over pictures of his child and wife. Talking it over the phone was not the same as up and in person. Mustang found himself more and more annoyed by the second. There was an epiphany.

"Gracia did say that the next time I happen to turn up in Central she had wanted to catch up." Hughes paused. Oh no.

"She did." Mustang smirked.

"Your wedding anniversary is coming up." Mustang felt his ego slowly boost as Maes deflated bit by bit.

"It is."

There was a long silence as Mustang felt a small victory. Maes still remembered his last wedding anniversary gift from Roy. Never again.

"Maybe it's time we get out of the closet." Replied Hughes hastily as he reached for the door handle.

"I thought we had done that years ago." Mustang was cackling to himself now. Hughes turned to him, the look on the man's face was that of pure annoyance. Mustang had forgotten how great it felt to make horrible jokes. He moved forward and reached for the door handle. "And could you believe it? The information they had given me on the Elric's had been misinformation. Some times situations like those can turn out for the best." He began to randomly chat as if it was just plain catching up gossip with an old friend. They reintegrated into the almost empty corridor. Only one other person occupied it.

"Ah, Major Armstrong, good seeing you." He saluted, before turning back to Hughes. "I'll be seeing you than, Hughes." There was a slight deviation in eye contact, while still facing in Hughes general direction, he shifted his eye contact to Armstrong. "I'll be in Central for a day or two. Maybe we could meet up again," tonight, he mouthed before waving the two off, as if none of that had occurred.

Hughes turned to Armstrong.

"So about that case."


	7. Chapter 7

Roy felt his muscles relax as he sat himself up in the chair with a glass of wine - red wine to be precise, sediment at the bottom tasted horrible but it's concentration of alcohol was high, or so he liked to believe (the placebo effect could work wonders) - he allowed himself a least to let his guard down while eating supper with Alex. Not like the man was going to kill him or anything, in the literal sense, in bed was another story. Alex had seen him in far worse states than this. Personally, if the man had seen Roy at his worst, than he damn well definitively deserved him at his best, or well second best, currently. This sentiment held true for a few people, Hawkeye and Hughes the first to come to mind.

Elric's evaluation earlier had been a real fiasco, an entertaining one, but the kid had some real guts, to say the least. He also had to say, while unbelievable, it was rather cute how, after the examination, Ed attempted to blackmail Mustang with his lack of response to the Fuhrer's 'attempted assassination'. It was cute, in a rather pathetic way. Hawkeye scolded him towards better masking his facial features and to show more emotion in those situations - a real oxymoron now that he thought about it. He had thought he had been plenty good at looking shocked towards that oh so horrid event. Really, the kid was a little shit. Why had he offered the young blond to take a position as a state alchemist? He gritted his teeth as he vaguely recalled a memory he had preferred to left turned over, to let the kid have a chance at living. Ed was going to cause him so much grief, he could feel it. Just remember why you took the kid on, Mustang. He's a smart kid, he has a lot of raw potential, didn't want to see him wallow in his own misery knowing he could do something to help. If he wanted to better Amestris, to make things right, sometimes it was the little steps that counted. And hey, maybe Elric would save the world one day!

He looked to his glass of red wine. Maybe he has a bit too much. Like a lot too much, like he was already on his second bottle (it was already half empty) and he could feel Alex's stare from across the table and Hawkeye's words ringing in the back of his head. You end up passed out on your apartment floor once from alcohol poisoning and never to be trusted again. Okay to be fair he had done it more than once. And maybe, just maybe, an alcoholic like himself shouldn't finish two bottles of red wine in one night. He slowly pushed the red wine away, contemplating if this was the right decision, and decided finally to pull the water close, taking a sip. Alex smiled contently, or what he assumed was contently from behind the moustache - he remembered far darker times before the moustache. Okay yup, definitively the right decision.

"How has your day been?" Alex always speaking in that loud sincere tone of formality he carried along with him. Mustang felt his elbows slouch slowly.

"Long." He spoke flatly. Long, eventful and something he wish he could have gotten plastered for. He hadn't gotten plastered in a while, maybe a year now? Hawkeye was hoping to keep the streak that way. He was also positive his subordinates and oh so horrible friend Maes Hughes were betting on when that streak would break. Havoc was always one to lose, when it first began, he was so sure by the end of the month Roy would get plastered, when it never came along, time after time after time, he rethought his strategy. A few of his subordinates, namely Breda and Furry claimed on special occasion said where people would often consume huge amounts of alcohol, this was the strategy Havoc changed to. When Maes heard of the bet, which had surprised him, he had overheard it over the phone when Hughes thought it appropriate to use a work line to gush about his family, he placed his bet on 'Roy's wedding day'. Which was Hughes equivalent of 'probably never again'. This answer also happened to be one Lieutenant Hawkeye's answer, who, while placing her money on the table, made a very loud sound with her gun. Roy understood that message fairly clear. If the alcohol poisoning didn't kill him, she would.

"Us as well, we have not gotten many new leads on one of our most important cases currently open." Alex was being as precise as he could be, he wasn't allowed to give much detail of his work in the Intelligence department. One never really knows who exactly one could be blabbing too. Plus you know, work ethics were a thing to and hearing in detail was not really a conversation one would like to have. Something to appreciate, really. Mustang gave a sound that meant he had understood.

There was a silence between them. It felt awkward in the air, as awkward as their first date, which, if he had to be honest, had been an incredibly awkward experience. Armstrong looked him dead in the eyes, a serious expression on his face.

"I heard you brought in a new state alchemist." And here they went again. Mustang sighed, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"As I told Hughes earlier, I told Elric everything, the decision to take the state alchemist evaluation was his own and he can tell you his own reasonings himself." He felt himself wanting to resign for the night. Just spend the night reading. He probably should have stayed at the hotel both Ed and his Lieutenant were staying in. He looked back to Alex. He rose from the table and thanked his partner for the meal. Before he had much chance to retreat, Alex grabbed him firmly by the wrist, his sky blue eyes starring deeply into his own cobalt. There was a sort of determination in his expression. A determination for what, Mustang was having trouble deciphering. He sat himself back down and laid his head firmly in his hands.

There was a silence that sat between him. Mustang realized over the years Alex was good to wait and listen, possibly from all those years in intelligence. Mustang growled and gave up. God he really wished he was plastered. Alex placed his hand atop of Roy's.

"I trust that you have made the right decision, Roy." Roy stared up and saw sincerity within the other man's eyes. He knew how much Alex hated bringing children into conflict, how much this would have a major problem between them. The sentiment was rather nice. He gave Alex a smile that symbolized a 'thanks'.

"Now don't go bugging Edward about his motivations, alright?" He inevitably deadpanned. "Or go snooping yourself."

"I promise." Mustang smirked suddenly, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Glad you did because at snooping around you're as bad as Maes." Alex gave a small, yet hearty laugh.

"I learned from the best."

A clock began to chime, once, twice… nine times. Mustang rose from his seat and stretched himself. He walked over and gave a light peck on the lips before heading towards the exit.

"I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning, once I arrive in East city, I'll attempt to call you as soon as I can." Even if they knew nothing would happen on the return trip, calling the other seemed to appease the thought that the other was out of harms way.

Alex nodded.

"Good night. Sleep well."

"You too." Mustang gave a sad, tired smile as he exited the small private dinning room.


	8. Chapter 8

Maes Hughes realized that he had become rather fond of the Elric's when he first met them. Or rather, their second meeting, their first one had been on the train ride and that had been quite a fiasco. When he first met Ed, it was quite easy to tell he was carrying a burden, hiding something too, there are 4 types of people who join the military, those who have something to hide, those who have something to protect or to achieve, those who want power or want to kill without repercussion and those who join because they have nowhere else to go. Many other various factors overlapped with these four grand categories and people seemed to fit into more than one, but essentially they could be summarized as such.

Edward seemed to fall into two of those categories. He had something to hide, a metal leg and a metal arm hold a story, and he seemed to have something he wanted to achieve, which was an obvious given as he entered the military at age twelve to become an infamous dog of the military and the even more infamous Fullmetal alchemist, or 'the alchemist of the people'. His little brother was even more curious when he had met him. Wearing such a large suit of armour, but sounding as if the person inside was as light as a feather. It was even stranger when he had them over for diner and Alphonse ate or barely ate anything at all of his meal.

It became evident when Ed had been attacked by Scar that what he was hiding and what he was trying to achieve were far more complicated in his wildest dreams, Ed alone was one hell of a case, but Alphonse, it was on an entirely different level. They had committed a taboo - Roy would often talk about alchemy with him in the past - and reaped the consequences, now they were trying to gain back what he lost, and he couldn't help but find himself interested and invested in these boys. He wanted to help them. Ed acted as if he was an adult, but sometimes he could see the cracks in the façade. He could get all the help he could get his hands on, and just as he had done with Roy Mustang, he would help Edward Elric to the best of his capabilities, because he wanted to see these kids succeeded, because he truly believed they deserved happiness for the cruellest they've had to carry.

What Maes Hughes did not plan on discovering while helping Edward Elric, was unraveling the greatest conspiracy in the history of Amestris; from what he saw from Ed's sketch of the transmutation circle in the laboratory to the map of his very own country. There was more to this, it was a definitive, and the military was working on it that was for sure. How far up did it go? Or in any case, _how far down?_ The Fuhrer was definitively involved, there was no doubt, it must have been passed down from Fuhrer to Fuhrer, but did the higher ups know about it? Who exactly knew? He had to tell Mustang, of course he had to tell Mustang, but he had to make sure he was going to get his ass killed. This was big, this was something he had been waiting for, but at the same time, it was something that could quickly put him in his place. And when he left, he couldn't say he wasn't surprised when he was attacked. Of course something like this would happen.

It was a matter of time, but he couldn't believe it would be as soon as he figured it out. Now he really needed to call Mustang, but turned away from a military line, who knew who could be listening, who knew what was going on in the military anymore. He would connect from an outside line; they couldn't listen to him through an outside line. It was his only chance to stop a disaster in its place. He had to do this, not just for his friends and family, but for the sake of his country, for there would be no more country with what seemed to be in store for them. So when he had made it to the outside phone, he found himself growing impatient when Roy wasn't picking up on the other end of the line, damn he should have known constantly talking about his family over the phone would bite him in the ass.

When he was told to out the phone down by a familiar voice, he turned around realizing it couldn't be that person for Maria Ross had a mole underneath her eye on the right side of her face. The thing quickly rectified their mistake and put the mole on display for him to see. It wasn't Maria Ross, he was not scared to attack, but he stopped as the person took on the form of someone special, someone sacred to his heart.

His wife, his own amazing, stunning beautiful wife. He couldn't find it in him to continue to attack and in that moment of hesitation, the enemy strike, shooting them point blank in the heart, or what they had believed had been Maes heart. Seems like the attacker had a piss poor shot to just miss his heart at point blank range. He was still bleeding out quite horribly, to say the least, now it just meant his death was going to to be far more painful and longer than he could have wished. He heard Roy's voice on the other end of the line. The creature was slowly walking away; they had an evident beat in their step. Killing someone must have gotten them off. He heard his name desperately called over and over again.

He looked to the photo on the ground, slowly pooling up with blood, his family, his family who would miss him dearly.

He looked back up to the clear Amestrian night that surrounded him, clear for the fact that there was no one in sight. He laid his head back down within the phone both, closing his heavy eyes. He took a painful deep breath. How much longer would he be bleeding out like this? God this was even worse than what would have happened had the attacker even shot him properly in the heart instead of piss poorly.

"…I'm…Sorry…" he had been able to rasp out before everything had gone dark.

* * *

 **Kind of sounds rude but even if im 100% continuing writing this till the very end, i would appreciate a favourite and/or review, u know?**


	9. Chapter 9

Alex had been having a long week running after the Elric brothers, making sure they were okay while they stayed in Central. It was as if they screamed trouble. First when he had accompanied him to Resembool to get his arm repaired after having it be destroyed by Scar, and make sure all of Alphonse's pieces were in check and that he was properly repaired. And rather recently when he began aiding slightly in their investigation with the recent collapse of Lab five, a supposedly defunct military lab. With this work, on top of his typical investigations he had been given - currently another report about a large amount of people with similar hair/eye characteristics that were not in fact Ishvalans had started to spring up- he began to have much on his plate, and yet he did not mind, for he was helping those who needed him. He would do this work with honour and pride.

What had happened was a true tragedy and he couldn't help himself from emoting his sense of admiration for these two boys, stronger than most people and even himself. He understood what Roy had meant on that day, and he was glad he had gotten misinformation for he would have never met these boys.

On this cold Amestrian night, he found himself returning back to the office, he had forgotten key paperwork he was supposed to be working on that he wanted to brush up on, on top of that he had some things to ask Hughes. He found himself stop suddenly when he heard the familiar sound of a gun going of, looking around, it was nowhere with in the near vicinity, no one possessed guns much in Amestris apart from the military, which gave the idea that it must have come from Central HQ or its general vicinity. He felt a sense of dread and urgency build up in his stomach and throat. He switched from a slow walk to a run, hoping to make it before any real casualties, for if a gun was involved there would always be casualties. He had taken more time than he would have liked, possibly a good 6 minutes, and six minutes was a large amount of time in these types of situations. He investigated the area and noted the open phone booth… with a foot sticking out of it and a small pool of blood that slowly formed.

He felt his knees give out as he saw the familiar face within the booth. He could vaguely make out the sound of a phone beeping in the background, the phone he had been unable to hang up before being shot. He slowly raised two fingers up to his throat and felt reinvigorated determination. Hughes was faintly breathing. He had a chance to save Hughes. He could bring him to a military hospital.

The thought arose to him. Hughes was shot for a reason. Here on military grounds. The president's words from earlier rang in his head, to not trust the military. He clenched his teeth. He did not want to believe the reason for this was based within the military itself, but to help Hughes, he was not going to avoidable chances or risks. There was one thing to do first, to patch up the wound as best as he could. For one, he was not well versed in medical alchemy like Dr. Marcoh was, nor did he have a philosopher stone to help him amplify his abilities, but he did have a form of basic medical training, which meant he knew to bandage and apply pressure to the wound to attempt to slow down or stop blood loss. He looked down to his shirt, he wouldn't miss another shirt, for he already constantly destroyed them because of his muscles, being topless wouldn't be so suspect for him. The day his eccentrics would help save a life, he would have never seen the day.

He picked up Hughes carefully, they would return him to his place, than he would attempt to call a doctor. This task would be a difficult one, another problem, or more like problems as he quickly began thinking about it, was the fact he could easily be seen with Hughes at such a late hour of night, and his parents? No, it was so late and too dark to be clearly seen, and if he took the alleys, where there was no lighting, the probabilities of being seen became slim to none. His parents wouldn't mind, they rather didn't mind a lot of things and easily kept secrets, for the Armstrong's had generation old secrets that died with Armstrong's. He gave one last glance to the phone booth and debated picking up the picture, it was covered in blood, but he could get it out with a bit of alchemy. He swiftly picked it up, Hughes would want something to remind him of his family if the situation he believed he would play would arise.

On that note, he began to carefully make his way back to the Armstrong estate, Hughes faint breathing as a constant reminder what was on the line, and a million thoughts running amuck in his head.


	10. Chapter 10

When Mustang arrived in Central a few days after the confirmation of Hughes death by the military, he was greeted by Alex's somber face. Hawkeye was by Mustang's side, watching him carefully. They both knew how much Hughes meant to him, and how much he would have done had he had no support or someone to slap him in the face - a reminder to thank Hawkeye for that- how, on the first night, he did not sleep, his eyes wide open, void and staring at memories still so fresh. It was the second or the third day that it had really hit him, excusing himself from office early and going home. He had hated crying, even if he knew it wasn't a sign of weakness, he always felt like it had been. The phone had rang, he was sure it was Alex, he had been trying to reach him since Mustang heard the news, but he dully tuned it out, tired eyes looking at the empty glass of whiskey on the counter. He thought one glass wouldn't hurt, and one quickly turned into two and so on and so forth until the night itself was nothing more than a blur.

He felt Armstrong grip his shoulder tightly, the best sign of support he could give in public. He thanked him for the sentiment. Funerals had always been the worst. His first had been that of his own parents. He has been four at the time. His sister, nine. The concept of death hadn't really been something he could have grasped his head around at the time. He felt a form of empathy with Elicia, burying your parents before your time, even if unable to understand the concept until a few years later, was still the worse feeling he couldn't even remember.

He went to pick up some flowers, carnations, the appropriate flower for funerals. Hawkeye asked him where he would be heading, the funeral would be in a few days. He informed them he would be heading to Gracia's, he wanted to pay his respects to her in person. Both Armstrong and Hawkeye followed silently.

"Major General Armstrong left you a message, her condolences." Mustang didn't even question Hawkeye's statement, he nodded his head, his mind elsewhere. He would though, remember that statement later on.

When he arrived at the small apartment he had used to visit so often in the past, he hesitated knocking on the door, but did so quite gently, as if it was a ghost. The door open not a second sooner, a young girl with sandy blonde hair and green eyes inquiring in a rather hopeful tone "Daddy?" Mustang gave a small remorseful smile as the young child deflated when her deceased father had not been the one to open the door.

"Who's at the door Elicia?" He could hear Gracia call out from somewhere far, possibly in the kitchen, it was close to lunch. Elicia turned her head back slightly in the direction of her mother.

"Uncle Roy with auntie Riza and Uncle Alex!" Riza couldn't even find it in her to correct the little girl, she allowed her to do so, for she wouldn't want to hurt the little girl more than she had been already. Her tone had, in fact, been sorrowful when she called out their names.

Gracia appeared not two seconds sooner and quickly took Mustang into her embrace, Mustang did not flinch, did not move, but slowly began to return the motion Gracia had thrusted upon him. He could hear a small trembling whispered 'thank you' escape her lips and he bit his own. He remembered how he had met Gracia, the memory coming freshly back to his mind.

Unlike the original version he had garbled out to Hughes when they first met, he had met Gracia in Central, while he had still been under the care of Madame Christmas. His sister had already left long ago to peruse her alchemical training up north at the time, leaving him alone to work in Madame Christmas' 'hostess bar' as she so politely called it. At the time he had returned to Madame Christmas' from the Hawkeye estate, for clientele reasons. He had just gotten off a client, the very one he had returned to Central for, ready to wrap himself upstairs in his sister's alchemical books and the one's he had brought with him from Hawkeye's when he heard the voice of a young girl, not far from his own age, maybe a few years older, begging for a job. She needed the money for her family, to pay off the crippling debt her father had left her and her family after he turned his back on them. He could hear Madame Christmas getting annoyed, and once she got to that point, she caved. It was how he first ended up getting into this fiasco, but he had also done it for a myriad of other reasons. It wasn't an uncommon tale in this domain. Everyone here had their reasons.

"Mind if I speak with her?" The girl had perked up to look over to him, as if he looked and sounded like an angel. Which he probably did. Roy had, over the years, gotten a rather fluid sense of gender presentation, and a whole bunch of older brothers, although very few, and sisters who adored testing makeup and wigs on him. He had become rather adept at applying makeup and wearing wigs to mask himself.

"Azure." Madame Christmas had never been one to stumble on names, never one to stutter or flounder, she said it with ease, conviction and solidity. The Madame stared him down, trying to see if she could read him. She sighed. "Alright, she's yours." With that she exited the back room, leaving Roy and the young girl he would befriend and become one of his very first confidants, alone.

Her name had been Gracia.

When she released him from the hug, she saw the pained, yet understanding smile on his lips. She gently took the flowers from his hands and asked them all to come in.

Armstrong followed along silently, daring not to ask how Roy knew Gracia so familiarly, and seated himself on the tiny couch, finding himself occupied with the little girl who he could barely look in the eye. This all felt so wrong for him.

He looked around the small apartment, on drawers and desks, he could make out pictures, important friends and family. He saw the abundance of family pictures of Maes, Gracia and the some with Elicia. There were solos and duos and some of friends. He spotted the one of a young Maes and Roy, smiling a smile he had seen so rarely, reserved only for the one's he loved. Than there had been one with Gracia and a young woman in a dark blue dress and a black hair slightly tinted blue . The face was familiar to him.

"I presume you'll be staying for lunch." It sounded far more like a demand than a inquiry, Mustang nodded his head. It felt like the right thing to do. Gracia smiled and returned to what she had been doing, a mutual silence settling among them. It was a time for grieving.

And yet Armstrong could not grieve for a man who wasn't dead.


End file.
